© Cyndi Friberg, January 2008
All Rights Reserved

“It's a horrible place. Dr. Hydran is a horrible man.”

Gods of the day moon, how he wanted to touch her, to kiss the frown from her lips. “Can you be a little more specific?”

“What would you like to hear?” She tossed what remained of the wooden flower off to one side. “Have you seen the Center from the air?”

She looked so tiny, so defenseless with her disheveled hair and defiant eyes. What indignities had she suffered? He could only nod. His throat was so dry words were impossible.

“There are four identical wards. At least they look identical from the outside. Each occupant is tested at age three. If they exhibit no active gift, they're assigned to ward A. The testing is repeated every five years or whenever something happens to warrant further testing. The outcome of testing, at any time, can result in reassignment to a higher security ward.”

“I'm not sure I understand.” Trey did, but Mr. Darrin wouldn't have.

“At any time a child can be taken from her mother and assigned to another ward. Belle and I were lucky. We were reassigned together.”

He swallowed, forced to hide his reaction behind an expressionless mask. “How old were you?”

She glanced off into the distance and pulled another wooden flower from the prickly-looking tree. “Eight. Hydran realized we were communicating telepathically, not only with each other, which is expected with twins, but with the others.”

“Your mother is housed in ward A? She has no gifts?” That didn't make sense, if Krysta was who he believed her to be.

“I'm not sure where my mother was housed. I was only allowed to see her on rare occasions when Hydran... I don't want to talk about my mother.”

“Can you communicate with her now?” he asked carefully.

“My mother is dead. Change the subject.”

He took a deep breath, reinforcing his role. “Tell me more about the Center.”

“Like I said, Belle and I were lucky. Saebin was taken from Joleen when she was five. To this day, they've not been allowed to see each other.”

“Who is Saebin?”

“My best friend, except for Belle.”

She wandered toward him. Trey clenched his fists, bracing his back against the tree. If she touched him, he wasn't sure he could be noble. And she wanted to touch him. Regardless of her misgivings, desire shone in her eyes.

“Why was she taken away from her mother?” His voice broke conspicuously.

“It's hard to explain.”

“Try.”

“She can reach into a mind and turn it off, not permanently or anything, just knock someone out with a thought.”

“You said she was five. Your friend first knocked someone out when she was five?”

Her eyes narrowed. “It wasn't her fault. The guard frightened her; she merely reacted. And Hydran dragged her kicking and screaming away from Joleen. I think eleven of his people went down before the elders were able to calm her.”

“Saebin can do this now at will?”

She nodded. “That's why they moved her to ward D. She was accepted into an elite program and I... I thought you were interested in healers.” She didn't move back. Why didn't she move back?

He had to push his one advantage. She wanted him. Mr. Darrin wouldn't care about the other wards, guard rotations, security protocols, or the endless details Trey must eventually understand. For now, it was more important to fan the flames, draw her nearer. “I'm interested in you.”

“Why?”

He grabbed the lapels of his jacket, knowing she'd retreat when she heard his question. “What's the Companion?”

She gasped and tried to pry his hands lose. “Who told you about... stupid question. Why would he want you to know... another stupid question.”

Trey grinned. If he stood here long enough, she'd have the whole conversation by herself. “What has the Companion taught you? What do you still want to know?”

“Stop it!” Giving up her attempt to budge his grip on the jacket, she shoved against his chest instead.

“I thought we played this game already. Want to go another round?”

He dragged her against him, pulling her feet on top his boots to better align the apex of her thighs with his aching erection. His hands cupped her bare bottom firmly, holding her there, needing her there. She swung at him, but Trey couldn't drag his hands away from her warm skin. He just didn't care enough to stop the slap. But when she reached back to swing again, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her arms behind her back.

“Now, do you answer my questions or do I get to touch you?”

“Touch me.” She sneered. “I want you to.”

He laughed. “That didn't sound very sincere.” He tucked her hair behind her ears and traced the shape of her mouth, laughing again when she tried to bite him. “Well, I guess we won't be kissing, just yet.”

Her highly arched brows drew together and her mouth snapped shut.

“Disappointed?” She glared. “What did the Companion teach you?” His hand descended toward the overlapping lapels.

“That's a complicated question.”

“Can the Companion touch you?”

“The Companion can simulate sensation.”

Trey released her arms. She'd used an odd tone when she said the word can. “Have you ever used the Companion to simulate sensation?” Her hands moved to his chest. She stopped struggling. Intrigued, Trey rested his hands on her hips, on the outside of the jacket.

She shook her head.

“Then what do you do with the Companion?”

“Talk.”

She started to step down from his boots. His hands tightened against her hips. “If I kiss you now, will you bite me?”

“Maybe.”

He could live with that. Gently, oh so gently, he pulled her back into his arms. He brushed her hair away from her face and covered her mouth with his. For a long time he just touched her lips, enjoying the heat and her surrender.

She moved first. Tilting her head, she parted her lips. Trey accepted the subtle invitation. He licked her bottom lip, then slowly sank into her warm, wet mouth. A soft cry escaped along with her breath and desire twisted inside him.

“Oh, Krysta,” he whispered, his damp lips moving against hers. He took the kiss deeper, exploring the hidden recesses of her mouth. She pushed her fingers into his hair and tentatively brushed her tongue over his.

Slipping his hand beneath the jacket, he stroked her bare behind. She was so soft, so warm, he wanted to explore every tempting curve. He slid his hand along her side and cupped her breast. With a breathless moan, she arched into the caress. Her nipple gathered against his palm. His thumb brushed the tight peak, encouraging her response.

He'd been right; she was ripe for seduction, nearly desperate for his touch. Distracting her with deep, tender kisses, he skimmed her belly with his hand. She quivered and shifted restlessly. He eased his fingers between her thighs.